Harry Potter and the Long Night
by wargear
Summary: And either must die at the hand of the other... After the defeat of Voldemort, what comes next for Harry and the Wizarding World? A Babylon 5 crossover.


I mean no threat to either J.K.Rowling or J.Michael Straczynski, or their respective empires. I gain nothing from this but the momentary satisfaction of good reviews.

* * *

**Harry Potter and the Long Night**

**Prelude**

* * *

Harry stood, alone, outside Hogwarts. The castle doors were sealed at his request, by the Headmaster, to keep his friends and loved ones from joining him. 

The Death Eaters had him surrounded in what amounted to a rough semi-circle. Harry slowly scanned their ranks. _Yep, all of them._ Only Riddle had yet to make an appearance.

_**pop**_

The sound of a final figure apparating onto the scene echoed ominously.

"Nice of you to finally join us, Tom." Harry called out. "Are you ready to finish this?"

Voldemort's blazing red eyes narrowed. "**KILL HIM!**"

Harry grinned and wondered if Tom knew his voice went up three octaves when he yelled.

* * *

Inside the castle, pelting along the corridor leading to the secret passage with the closest exit point, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger skidded to a halt, their attention caught by the sight out the window. 

Harry, without a wand, facing a couple of hundred Death Eaters, wands drawn and pointing at him…and Voldemort!

The explosion of sickly green light that suddenly poured out of the assembled Death Eaters seemed to be taking too long to reach a motionless Harry.

The shock was too much for Hermione who promptly fainted. While Ron battered helplessly at the window, screaming for Harry to move, run, anything…

* * *

Harry stood there, eyes locked with Voldemort's. The hundreds of Avada Kedavra's were barely instants away and Riddle was looking very pleased with himself. 

The world seemed to stand still for a moment as the spells made contact with the young hero, before and inrushing of magical force almost dragged the assembled Death Eaters off their feet.

Then the spells rebounded.

Only a half dozen Death Eaters had the presence of mind to avoid the rebounded death spells.

Harry hadn't lost eye contact with the Dark Lord. "Did you really think you could cheat a Prophesy, Tom?" Swifter than the eye could follow, a 9mm pistol appeared in his hand.

**Blam, Blam** A double-tap ended Malfoy senior. **Blam** Avery dropped, his right shoulder shattered. **Blam, Blam** Another double-tap, this time dear Bella would not be escaping.

**Blam, Blam, Blam, Blam, Blam, Blam** Six shots, point-blank range into Voldemort. Nothing.

Neither the Dark Lord, nor his nemesis, looked very surprised by this.

"_Did you really think I, the greatest Dark Lord of all time, would be vulnerable to a muggle weapon?_"

Parseltongue. Lovely. "Not really, Tom, but I was proving a point here." Harry dropped the gun and drew the Sword of Gryffindor from a wizarding space inside his robes. "They were." Lazily indicating the fallen Death Eaters.

Voldemort summoned an ebon blade of fell enchantments in time to parry Harry's first blow.

Sword clashed on sword for nearly five minutes, interspersed by the occasional wildly careening spell. Finally, Voldemort struck a telling blow across Harry's shoulder.

Again…nothing.

Taking advantage of the Dark Lord's distraction, Harry stabbed into Voldemort's heart.

Or would have…if the sword had penetrated. It didn't.

The two of them stood there looking at each other, before Voldemort swung a vicious backhand at the younger man, connecting with a spray of blood as Harry's nose broke.

Harry laughed bitterly. "And either must die at the hand of the other…bastard prophesy…" Rising smoothly to his feet, and uncoiling into a perfect uppercut, lifting his adversary off his feet, and following up with a nicely executed sidekick, sending the Dark Lord flying.

"Hows that for irony, Tom? All that power, all that knowledge, and the final battle comes down to a fist fight like common muggles." Harry was closing on his fallen opponent.

The handful of surviving Death Eaters looked on in horror.

Voldemort kicked Harry in the groin, causing their conditions to suddenly reverse. Harry was now on the ground, while Riddle was now closing on him.

"Low…blow…Tom," Harry gasped out.

"I told you not to call me that." Voldemort hissed, kicking Harry in the stomach.

Harry rolled with the blow, winding up next to a tree. He hauled himself to his feet, and upon noticing a stout lower branch, snapped it off the tree.

Swinging it wildly at the Dark Lord, hoping to gain a few moments breather, he was as shocked as his opponent when it connected…and drew blood.

He had a weapon.

Taking the advantage, Harry hammered Voldemort again and again. The sheer primitive brutality sent adrenalin coursing through the young hero.

Despite a valiant effort, the sixty-odd year old Dark Lord could not match his youthful opponents vitality, collapsing under the repeated blows.

A final blow to the head cracked open his skull, followed by the jagged end of the branch penetrating the Dark Lord's heart.

Thus died Tom Riddle.

Leaving an exhausted Harry Potter alone on the field of battle.

Victory…but at what cost?

* * *

Normality returned quickly. With Harry Potter's victory over the Dark Lord, there were few who would dare oppose the Light. 

School returned to normal.

Hermione aced the NEWTs, being recruited into the Unspeakables from the get go, and went on to marry Ron Weasley, Star Keeper (and later Head Coach) for the Chudley Cannons.

Harry spent a few years with the Cannons as Seeker, during which period the Cannons enjoyed an unbeaten winning streak, before retiring to take a teaching position at Hogwarts, Defense Against Dark Arts. He married Ginevra Weasley, now a respected healer at St. Mungoes.

Peace and prosperity reigned…

…for a while…


End file.
